


7 Days of Pride

by jellidonut



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff, Homosexual love, M/M, this one was really cute to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellidonut/pseuds/jellidonut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A total of 7 drabbles that I wrote in the span of a week after the Supreme Court ruling of same-sex marriage in all 50 states, starring my Pyro OC, Andrei Silivasi, and everyone's favorite Medic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Touch

Blue.

         Not the shade of the ocean on a clear day, nor the clean lake water not too far behind the base. It was not quite the color of the sky up above them both, or the blue of the natural delphiniums he would personally drop off on the spotless tray table every Saturday morning without a word, just a long gaze at the already working doctor. Instead, they were as blue as the popsicles he stored in the freezer, that he would take and stare at through the dark lenses of his mask before sneaking away to his room to devour them. He believed the flavor of the treat was "Sea Salt Ice Cream", and he had always wondered how someone could enjoy something that tasted like too much salt.

         But as he held the man's cheeks, holding him in place to get a closer look at the face that never showed itself to anyone, stroking his thumb rhythmically along the side of his face, he could understand why. His lips, stained the same blue as the ice cream he'd finished only minutes earlier, made the flavor of salt more bearable, more intoxicating than Medic had remembered it being, and when he pulled away from the sudden lip lock, he found that he could never have enough of the taste. No matter how old he would grow, or how many more hardships he would no doubt face, he would never be able to forget the sensation of a pyromaniac's lips against his own.

         His own blue eyes, unlike his companion's, flickered up to stare into the alluring irises presenting themselves to him, observing the way he avoided his gaze, engraved the image of his eyes into his brain, because this would surely be a once in a lifetime opportunity. The conversation from before had completely slipped his mind, so much so that he couldn't hope to continue it if he tried, but he didn't. Pyro let out a shaky exhale, breath hotter against the German's lips than the very flames he wielded, and the warmth lingered longer, travelling from his face down his neck, wrapping around his throat as if to strangle him, before shooting down to his heart, cold and dead and unmoving, until he could feel his own pulse clearer against his skin, could hear the blood pumping loudly in his ears until his whole body was burning, hotter with each timid glance from the mercenary in front of him.

         Pyro's hands, rough and scarred from long years of war, still managed to feel soft on the skin of his neck, carefully tracing up to the back of his head, nails tenderly scraping against his scalp. His hands wrapped around the short hair, tugging them to slowly pull his head back, better revealing his throat, and his own lips curled into a smirk at the stroke of the other man's lips on his Adam's apple. Medic playfully swallowed, and the hands in his hair clenched just a bit harder as he dragged the Romanian onto his lap, holding him in place with a single palm on his lower back. He leaned closer, eyes once again staring into his partner's, and then they were kissing again. In his hazy mind, he took no notice as to who started it, just focusing on how their lips moved against each other, desperate for more, until they were moving _together_ , burning, hypnotic.

          _"Drege,"_ an unfamiliar word, an unfamiliar voice, but it sounded to him like the most beautiful symphony he'd ever heard, and just as addicting as the flavor of his lips, still on Medic. One of his hands slid down from the back of his head, pausing on the doctor's chest, his gaze flickering down to where his palm lay, while he focused on the Pyro, observing his breathing, the light pressure of his teeth on his bottom lip. The German said nothing, silently gesturing for him to go on with a simple nod, purposefully staring at his lips as he licked his own, not missing the shiver that ran down his spine, or the nervous gulp. "You taste of that beer in your fridge," he signed, followed by a shy laugh, quiet, hard to catch, but he couldn't get enough of it.

         He straightened in his seat, gloved hand overlapping his partner's bare hand, guiding it lower until they both laid over his heart, helping him feel the rapid beating. Blue stared into blue, the silence between them only momentary, but comfortable, welcome. "Und you taste of zhat ice cream you enjoy so much." He leaned closer, kissing him briefly, only lingering for a second before pulling away (and smiling when he noticed him forcing himself to push back after having followed his lips). The doctor flicked his tongue out of his mouth, slowly, teasingly dragging it over his upper lip. Everything he did, he made sure the shorter man saw, made sure he felt when his other hand started stroking circles on his lower back.

         "You do not like it?" The question was asked with a slight tremor in his fingers, reminding Medic of the irony his name was; _Andrei, brave, strong_. He'd read it on his file, provided to him by Miss Pauling, and seeing how he behaved without the mask, without the protective flame suit, struck wonder in the already curious RED doctor. In that moment of baited breath, of shivers and shaky eye contact, he swore to help him honor his name more than he already did, because if rumors proved true, then visiting the mad doctor during a ceasefire unless absolutely necessary, or attempting to court him with delphiniums every Saturday morning without fail, was a courageous move on anyone's part. To be honest, he felt complimented by the timid man's efforts. But right now, he couldn't focus on anything but the feel of this man's lips on him, of the hand still in his hair, of the undeniable attraction that coursed through his veins. He smirked up at him, shaking his head before kissing him once again, whispering against his lips.

          _"I've become addicted to you, my little Pyro."_


	2. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How is one supposed to react when their usually collected lover just breaks down? Andrei doesn't have a clue, but the good thing about their relationship is that none of them really know what to do next. It's just nice to be there for each other.

Most of the time, the one that needed comfort was Andrei.

         He couldn't see himself worthy of this wonderful man's love, of his bold affections, of his gentle touches and passionate kisses. He would never see himself in that way, only ever thinking of himself as some sick, twisted pyromaniac that quite literally burned everything in his path, that couldn't have the soft hands of his life-saving partner because he only ever took life away from people. He was no piece of art to be marveled, just a burnt down house at the end of the road that was to be avoided because any second, it might collapse, and who wanted to be stuck in there when that happened?

         But Maximilian, the Medic, was there each time the house finally gave way, when the roof crashed down, when the floorboards could no longer keep themselves up. He was there when Pyro couldn't stand himself anymore, couldn't bare to look at any reflective surface for fear of the monster that would look back, and he would call him beautiful even when he knew it wasn't true. "How could a murderer be beautiful?" He would barely manage to sign, salty tears choking him, and the doctor would just smile. He would use his hands, his careful fingers, to wipe away his distress, would use his lips to silence his cries.

         "Do you think I am beautiful, Andrei?" It would be a simple question, an easy one to answer. The crying man would nod almost instantly, nearly snap his head off his neck at how fervently he would show his answer, a wholehearted "yes". And he'd grin, nuzzle his cheek until it would turn red from embarrassment, gently touch his lips to the Romanian's, wet from the tears. "I haff killed many men, so if ve go by your logic," he would pause, intertwine their fingers and capture his eyes, hold eye contact that was full of adoration. "Zhen I am not beautiful." That would always work, have the response Medic desired, as the once mute man would correct himself, shaking his head and kissing him.

         "Zhen you are beautiful too, perhaps more zhan I am."

         And that would be the end of the moment of weakness, at least until the next one hit Pyro like a wave. It had become routine, the German coming to learn how to help him feel better, and they were okay with it.

         But then, there were the times when Medic needed comforting.

         These were truly rare, as he hardly suffered from sudden bouts of insecurity, but they were not kind. They were unrelenting, attacking the strong man where there were chinks in his armor, where it would hurt most. But Pyro hardly knew about this moments, only even learning of their existence when he circled back to the man's room after forgetting his flamethrower there, and accidentally walking in on a curled, sobbing version of his lover. It had terrified him, thinking he had been hurt, that someone had purposefully said or done something to inflict physical or psychological torment, so he'd forgotten all about the weapon and rushed to him.

         "Ce este greșit, dragostea mea?" He had begged to be told, smoothing the wrinkles in his shirt, tenderly pushed his hands from his face to see the woe in his eyes that darkened the color, and he frowned. Max tried to smile, tried to tell him everything was okay, but he couldn't, crumpling into him with a choked cough, leaning into his warmth, wrapping himself in it to get away from the cold all around him. Andrei couldn't calm down, even for a second, fretting over him with various kisses in various places, never fully pulling himself from the other man, pressing him against the wall and continuing to brush his lips against the falling tears.

          _"Ich bin nicht gut genug für dich,"_ Medic whimpered, native tongue at work, and he couldn't believe what he was hearing. They had long since taught each other their first languages, for the times when they wanted to say things they couldn't say in front of the others, but this made Pyro's heart freeze, his blood stop pumping. He shook his head, slowly, trying not to worsen his condition, as he leaned up and kissed the corner of his parted lips, tasting salt and frowning, because never before had he tasted like tears. A hand, bare and icy to the touch, rested on his left cheek, tentatively pulling him closer to give him a full kiss, a better one.

         But this was all _wrong_ , because his confident, calm lover was anything but, shaking with each touch, hesitating to show the intimacy he usually didn't even blink an eyelash upon expressing, and it wasn't right. "You are more than enough, Drege. I could search this Earth for a thousand years and never find one person as perfect and godly as you. I wake up, not because I am obligated to, but because if I did not, I wouldn't be able to hear your voice, feel your touch. You have stolen my heart, but I do not want it back. Not if it's in your possession," he didn't allow any protests, kissing him again and again until the warm tingling was evident in his eyes, in the way he pulled him back for more after catching their breath.

         The brunette hadn't moved from his side all night, attending to him as though he were ill, holding him close with gentle whispers of reassurance, scratching the back of his head in just the way he knew he liked it. It wasn't until morning came, when Andrei opened his eyes to the intruding beams of light, that his partner was better, fully functional and ready to work, pretending that nothing had happened when they were in front of the other mercenaries. The masked man wondered if he felt ashamed of having shown him such a personal part of him last night, so he showed no indication of it either, fulfilling his role as "psychopathic pyromaniac that everyone avoided". Except when they were the last two in the showers; Pyro had safely assumed that it was empty, hearing no running water, so he'd entered to finally wash himself. But Medic had been there, waiting, and had given him a genuine smile after grabbing hold of his wrist and spinning him back into his chest. "Danke, Pyro," he had whispered into his ear, kissing the tip of his earlobe with a soft chuckle, and in his dazed state, he could only nod.

         From then on, he was still clueless on stopping him from crying when those rare moments arose, only ever managing to stay with him until he stopped himself, but the doctor was okay with that. Somehow, he was okay with it too, because in the late hours of the night, when his strong doctor would wander into his room with tear stains, and slip under the blanket with him, holding him close while he worked to comfort him, it was nice knowing that he could be trusted enough to be present in his weakness.

         It just proved that Medic didn't see him as a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ce este greșit, dragostea mea? - What is wrong, my love? {Romanian}  
> Ich bin nicht gut genug für dich. - I'm not good enough for you. {German}  
> Danke - Thanks {German}
> 
> Sorry for anything that's incorrect, you guys know how Google Translate works.


	3. I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those three words had never been spoken in full, not out loud. And while Medic is perfectly fine without them, despite knowing that Pyro does love him, it wouldn't hurt to hear it just once. But he understands; the words are hard to say for him, too.

         In a relationship between two men, Medic never expected there to be four different ways to say such a powerful phrase as "I love you". But even now, about five months into their secret relationship, he had not heard (or seen) it said in any of those languages, and he had not said it in any of those languages either. He figured it was because with a relationship such as their's, it didn't need to be said, but it wouldn't hurt to have exchanged it every once in a while.

         It wasn't as though the usually masked man were mute anymore; when he had first come into the Medbay, the very day he'd arrived, with a missing forearm (with a following Scout holding Spy's knife, while the French man could not stop pinching the bridge of his nose), his Medigun had not just repaired the chopped off arm, but his tongue as well. He hadn't known that then, only raising an eyebrow when his newly regrown hand covered where his mouth must've been, before he jumped up and down and hugged the man. After that incident, Pyro had started to "speak" more, in a muffled voice, but he slipped between actually talking and using sign language, and Maximilian had grown curious.

         So, with the help of Miss Pauling, he'd found the genderless creature's file, and not only found out his name and that he was, indeed, a _human being,_ but he also found out an interesting bit of his history. Andrei, the Pyro, had been a mere nine years of age when a psychopath off the streets broke into his home, brutalized his parents, and held a lighter down his throat to keep him from screaming. The result had been a burnt beyond repair tongue, unusable, irrepairable, useless in his mouth. Ironically enough, it was because of this incident that he had become what he was: a pyromaniac. He never a chance to speak for the rest of his life, so he hadn't tried, learned sign language and used it, _until_ the Medigun fixed him.

         Without his knowledge, he had saved someone a lifetime of silence, which explained all the times he would come to his rescue when an enemy Heavy advanced on him, or how he would seemingly sweeten up whenever around the doctor. That had been the first time of many that he helped Pyro, and he must've felt as though he owed him his life.

         Speaking of the Romanian arsonist, he stood almost entirely naked in front of him, only wearing a thin hospital robe, standing still on a scale while the Medic recorded the numbers, determining whether or not he was overweight. He kept fidgetting, averting eye contact and flinching when the red rubber gloves pressed against his covered stomach, or lingered on his shoulder. As he slipped his hand into the other's shaking palm to guide him to the operating table, he finally looked up at the man, noticing that he was rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. This, he had come to memorize, was one of Andrei's nervous quirks, so he paused the physical to worry over him as a significant other instead of a doctor. "Everything is okay?"

         He raised an eyebrow at the wild stutter that came out of his lips, feeling him squeeze his gloved palm with a skittish laugh. "Yes, I am fine, Maximilian. I didn't mean to disturb you. Please, continue." He slowly walked ahead, taking back his hand and turning to sit on the edge of the bed, offering the suspicious man a small smile. Despite the odd behavior, which was more timid than he usually behaved, he continued the check-up, occasionally glancing back at the patient.

         Medic was just finished checking his blood pressure when he heard it;

_"Ich liebe dich, Doktor."_

         It had been a mere whisper, loaded with fear and uncertainty, as though he weren't fully sure if he'd said it right, whereas he wasn't entirely sure if he said it at all. So he looked away from his chart, staring at the brunette with slightly wide eyes, hoping not to appear the fool dancing inside of him right now. "Did you say something, _Schatz?"_ His own voice was unusually quiet, his tongue darting out to lick his lips that had suddenly become quite dry. The nervous man panted, once, cheeks tinting the slightest bit red, as he puffed out his cheek.

         "I told you that I-I love you." He stuttered out, reaching out and gripping Medic's fingers, holding them shakily. Dark blue stared into the gentle pools of light blue, before he burst into quiet laughter, head resting on Pyro's shoulder, who eyed him in confusion. "Did I not say it right, doctor?"

         "No," he breathed, turning his head to kiss the side of his neck, feel him shiver under the sudden show of affection. The taller man all but tossed his clipboard aside, instead focusing on pulling him close, kissing his face all over before pressing their lips together. Another chuckle slipped out, muffled against his partner, as he grinned. It was wide, genuine, and apparently contagious, because in just a second, Andrei was laughing too. They were hugging each other, pressing their foreheads against the other, sharing brief, but loving kisses. "You said it perfectly."

         Pyro leaned too far back, his back finding no surface to press against, and as a small yelp of surprise echoed in the room, he dragged the doctor down with him, his body sliding over the metal bed before they fell, hitting the ground, one on top of the other. But none of them stopped smiling, or expressed any pain, laughing at each other, listening to the sound of frantic wing flapping from the many birds in the room with them. A moment passed where they could breathe, soak in the comfortable silence as Medic gazed down at his eyes. He leaned down, kissing him slower, showing more passion than he ever thought he could, as he whispered down to him the very words they'd both previously been fretting over.

        _"Și eu te iubesc."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ich liebe dich, Doktor. - I love you, doctor. {German}  
> Schatz - treasure {German}  
> Și eu te iubesc. - I love you too. {Romanian}


	4. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing Pyro crying is always heartbreaking for Medic. But seeing him crying when everyone else around him is having a good time is more than troubling.

         It was no image crafted from the dim lighting of the room and the haze of the beer he'd been consuming. No, when he looked at Pyro, subtle grin on his face from the humorous story Scout had just told about one of his many brothers, he wasn't shaking from amusement, proof being that there was no muffled laughter, nor the strange hand gestures for him to continue. Instead, his body was shivering, hard to see, but it was slow, more melancholy than joyful, and his eyebrows furrowed. Was he crying?

         Of course, there was no definite way to know, not with that mask in the way, and while he'd prefer not to ruin the rare moment of carefree interaction, he couldn't leave him alone like this. So, making sure not to move suddenly, he rose to his feet, nodding towards the large man that inclined his head towards him, before taking composed, deliberate steps in the distressed man's direction. He rounded the table with the sort of calm he always expressed around the others, giving no indication of the concern bubbling inside of him so as not to raise suspicion. Before he knew it, he stood beside the professional pyromaniac, softly clearing his throat to steal the man's attention.

         He stared fearlessly into the darkened lenses, eyes hard and searching, trying to see beyond the mask and see if he was wrong. He hoped beyond reason he was wrong, that he had just been imagining the difference in the quivers of his shoulder, that he'd just been too paranoid from the previous battle and it had leaked into his out-of-battle life. Unfortunately, he was right; a brief shine from the light bulb overhead revealed his eyes for a second, and sure enough, he could see they were teary and red even through the mask. But Medic did nothing to bring attention, waving the inquisitive Spy off when he showed brief interest in the matter, gently grabbed the rubber-clad wrist of his lover, coaxing him to stand before leisurely escorting him out, glad that no one had bothered to ask questions of where they were off to.

         The doctor walked alongside him, hand slowly slipping down from his wrist down to interlock their fingers, to hold his hand with a small, barely noticeable squeeze, and not once missing how his palm was shaking, how he kept bringing his other hand up to push his mask against his head, as though wiping the tears away with the lenses would help. Andrei became comfortably vocal, his whimpers and sniffles, however muffled they may be, hammering away at his heart until it felt ready to burst. His original intentions of bringing him all the way to the safety of his own room were pushed aside by his panic, wondering if something had hurt him in the battle, or something hadn't fixed right, so he pulled him around another corner before coming across the infirmary and guiding him inside.

         "Vhat's wrong, _Feuerchen?"_ He asked silently, fingers pulling away from his to start helping him lift the mask, while he did nothing to move away. After just a brief struggle, the gas mask was off, placed carefully on one of the trays, the slight impact of putting it down pushing the table a few inches back, bumping against Pyro's hip as he backed into it. But Medic could pay attention to nothing but the teardrops, the deep red color from weeping, the weak tremble of his lips. But a once-over did not reveal to him any wounds, or any tiny irritations that might be causing this, so it must've been something said, or seen, that made him cry. "Did somebody do something you didn't like?"

         He chuckled, debilitated, using his hands to wipe away the salty tears, trying to smile and being unable to. "No, I am fine, Maximilian. It was nothing, I was just being sensitive."

         He shook his head, eyebrows furrowing as he helped him sit down before taking a seat next to him, joining their hands again, giving him his full attention. "Do not think it was nothing. Anything zhat makes you cry is not nothing," he said, taking note of the hesitation flashing through his partner's eyes. "Tell me."

         "It is not pretty."

         Medic smiled kindly, patting the top of his hand. "It doesn't need to be."

         A moment passed where they both said nothing, where the whimpering man tried to look at him, but he couldn't hold his head up long enough without avoiding his gaze. "Scout," he murmured, clearing his throat weakly, "was talking of his mother. Everyone was sharing stories about their parents, but I wasn't. How could I?" As soon as they made eye contact, Medic realized what he was talking about; the incident he'd read about, the one when he was nine, the one that took his voice from him for so long. His parents had been reported seriously harmed, but they must've been killed. "I cannot remember much of my mother or father. Any time I try, I can only remember the li-lighter. The burning, my mother's screams for the man to just stop. To take her instead, but how could she know he would t-take her anyways? How?" He rambled, tears pouring down his cheeks as he brought his hands up to cover his eyes. "All I did was watch, half unconscious, as he killed them. He kept slicing, and stabbing, and pulling, that I-I-"

          _"Hör auf, meine Liebe!"_ His voice, in its natural tongue, was harsh, but with all the best intentions. He grabbed his cheeks rather roughly, to distract him from the memories, as he turned him to look directly into his eyes. He opened his mouth to console him, slipping back into English without effort, holding the shaking boy still with care not to hurt him. "It isn't your fault, Andrei. No one blames you for vhat happened, because he killed them, and maimed a small child. Vhat could you have done? You are a survivor, and because of zhat, you are stronger than zhat man would want you to be. You defy him by living on. And no, your mother might not haff been proud of your job," it was a joke, and he smiled in relief when he saw him chuckle quietly, "but she loves you from her place in Heaven, and I love you from my place by your side."

         "You may haff no blood family, but you have the other mercenaries. They are your family, and on top of zhat, you haff me," he whispered, gently kissing him for a couple seconds before allowing him to hide his face into his shoulder, stroking his back with sweet nothings. "I could never hurt you, and trust me vhen I say, I vill never abandon you." Medic pressed his lips to the top of his head, holding him close, feeling his shaking slowly die down until it was an occasional hiccup. He heard a muffled response and only pulled away an inch, allowing him more space to breathe.

         "I love you so fucking much, doctor." Andrei mumbled, grabbing hold of both his hands and intertwining their fingers. His head was bent just the slightest, but Maximilian knew he felt better, if even just a bit. Then he shook his head, letting out his usual carefree laugh, turning to look up at him with sparkling blue eyes, accented by the tears and the light drifting in through the window. He looked heavenly in that moment, like an actual angel, though this wouldn't be the first time he had come to this conclusion. "Tell me about your family. A happy story will help get my mind off it, and you did not share back there." He quirked his eyebrow playfully, and with a shake of his head, the taller man leaned down to peck his lips, smiling against him.

         "If you insist, _Liebe._ Did you know," he paused, taking a moment to drill the image to memory; the Pyro staring hopefully up at him, relying on him, his eyes full of inexplicable, overwhelming love. Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he continued. "I once had a vife?"

         From that point on, he didn't mind the insultingly surprised, questioning tones coming from him. So long as he was no longer crying, it didn't matter how shocked he was to hear that his doctor was capable of having a wife.

         (Though he would find a way to get back at his teasing.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> Feuerchen - little fire {German}  
> Stop it, meine Liebe - Stop it, my love {German}  
> Liebe - love {still German}


	5. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up early in the morning is hard enough on it's own: leaving the warm bed, pulling on a uniform, preparing to tolerate a bunch of loud assholes. Waking up with a partner, whose warmth is much more welcoming than even the bed?   
> It's damn near impossible.

         The sunlight flooded the dim room, blinding the man as soon as he poked his eyes open, shifting his weight to lean on his elbow as he rubbed the fresh sleep from his drowsy blue eyes. His eyelids hesitated to open, eyelashes brushing against the skin of his darling's shoulder, feeling the shorter man adjust himself against him. He pulled his palm from his exposed waist to his chest, also bare, memorizing the warmth of his sleeping body, the calm rise and fall of his chest. His lips, dry from dehydration, pressed long but soft against his shoulder, the blanket over them alluring, trying to lull him back to sleep, but as the sun rose, so did he.

         Medic slowly, gently sat up, crotch hidden by the thick fabric covering them both, stifling a yawn as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. It wouldn't be long until someone came looking for him, as someone always did in the morning, claiming they had somehow injured themselves before the fight could even dream of beginning, and he would have to be fully dressed, composed, and not cuddling Pyro when that happened. Well, not really, as he didn't really care if the others discovered their relationship, even the man's man, Soldier, because he could never be ashamed of their love.

         But turning to admire the sleeping features of his lover, how the sunlight colored his scarred skin golden, how for once, he wasn't nervous, or angry, or killing someone with insane laughter; he was genuinely at peace. How could he rob him of that calm? And yet, how could he pull himself away? Glancing towards the clock, he decided that it was too early to be called upon, besides, there was a basic medkit in nearly every room of the base, and just last night, Miss Pauling had informed them of a temporary ceasefire. He could squeeze in some extra sleep, as everyone else would do, no doubt. So he slipped out of bed, hands fumbling for the sign that Pyro had lovingly made for him, stating the word "BUSY, COME BACK LATER" with flowers and hearts surrounding it. Not the manliest sign, sure, but he treasured it as though it were a child.

         He stumbled towards the door, allowing himself a small yawn, opening the wooden door and slipping the sign around the knob before shutting and locking the door. Maximilian slowly turned around, momentarily freezing up when he noticed Andrei staring around the room in a daze, sleep still clear in his eyes, as the sun reflected off the beautiful irises only he possessed. He was aimlessly gripping at the empty mattress beside him, feeling for the missing lover, until they stared at each other. An exhausted smile crossed his features, holding his hand up lazily for the doctor to approach.

         "Come back to bed," he yawned, cringed at the taste of morning, no doubt, "love."

         If that didn't assure him that taking a break was right, that sleeping in was in order, then what was? With a nod, he made for the bed, sliding under the covers when he reached, pulling him into a cuddle, spooning him as he rested his cheek on his neck. Pyro giggled sleepily, eyes closing as Medic slipped his arm around his waist, joining hands on his stomach. He lazily kissed the back of his neck, noticing how quickly his lover had fallen asleep once he was back, and he let out a quiet chuckle. His eyes caught onto the sunlight, and his gaze focused on the window, ears picking up on the soft breathing, on the reassuring heartbeat he could somehow hear from here. Just admiring the sunrise with his Sleeping Beauty beside him, eyes casually drifting to the top drawer, locked of course.

         More sure of himself now than ever that what was inside was right for them.


	6. Pyroland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One shudders to imagine what inhuman thoughts lie behind that mask. What dreams of chronic and sustained cruelty?"  
> I mean, sustained cruelty is said loosely, right?

        **"Attention! _Two_ minutes left in the mission, _two_ minutes left in the mission." **

        The Rainblower (flamethrower) in his hands paused for just a moment, rainbows (flames) ceasing as he turned to look over his shoulder. The friend (enemy) in front of him giggled cheerily (screamed - rather loudly) as they bounded away, squealing for their other friends (ran away, calling for their Medic, burning alive) to come join them in the fun. The bright sun smiled down at him, laughing along with him, watching him skip towards the capture point. It was coated in a thick, delicious looking icing (blood), vanilla, as someone dear to him used to put over his favorite cupcakes, with lollipops and gumdrops covered in it (dismembered body parts). He spun around, grinning behind his mask before laughing, seeing more friends stumbling adorably for him (shaking as they ran, coming up with some sort of plan to get rid of him), figuring they wanted more of the magic.

         He provided them; pulling the trigger that would allow beautiful music out of the three horns of his tool as well as more rainbows and sparkles (fire, searing at their skin), until they were all cheering and giggling as they rolled in the icing (fell over dead, really. Covered in blood and flames). Another voice, sweet in his ear, told him that they only had one more point to capture, and looking over to his friend (his actual ally, who hesitated in thanking him for the assistance), who hurriedly beckoned for him to follow. Andrei did, laughing and dancing as he moved along the fields of pure happiness (anguish, fear, enemies shooting at him and his allies), shooting out more rainbows to all the baby men (trained, battle-ready mercenaries fleeing from him).

         The Romanian arsonist slid to a stop, tilting his head curiously to the side at the sight; all of his friends all waiting for him in front of the checkpoint! (All of the BLU Team aiming their weapons at him, some obvious in their apprehension.) Beside him stood his biggest friend, eating one of his famous sandviches before looking at him with a cheerful giggle (a chuckle of respect, though the sandwich really was there). With a happy wave, he began to brighten everyone's day, seeing his Heavy running forward to cuddle close to the others (hit them with his fists), closely followed by his favorite person in the world; Maximilian.

         And just like that, the candy themed, colorful world around him melted away, seeping into the skin of his tired, irritated lover. He was free of his delusions of the battlefield for the moment, able to focus solely on the doctor, who was assisting the Heavy, who was pulling out his gun. No longer did he see baby-men with lollipops, icing, a Rainblower, or even the smiling sun. He saw everything as it was, perhaps because all the happiness and joy he needed had escaped into Medic, who was staring at him with a proud smirk as the round was called, RED's victory announced.

         He didn't drop his flamethrower, taking slow, fatigued steps towards the German man, who flipped the switch on his medigun and worked at healing his tired bones. "I think it's safe to assume zhat your hallucinations are beginning to come less frequently?" With a nod of his head, he signed his first coherent sentence today, not mistaking his surroundings for a sort of candy land which he had taken to calling "Pyroland".

          _They only come on the battlefield now, and that's when you're not around. And I can kinda tell the difference between reality and fantasy easier now._  He signed, showing no embarrassment since the only ones who could understand sign were Medic, Engineer, and Heavy, and the last two were preoccupied with celebration to notice (or so he thought. He missed the dorky smile crossing Engie's face in favor of studying Medic's equally as dorky smile.). A teasing snort came out of his doctor's mouth, a quirked eyebrow as he held his hand out to help Pyro (who had tripped over what had once been a sleeping friend, but was now clearly a dead Spy) to his feet.

         "Good to know. Zhat means zhe medicine is vorking!"


	7. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally time.

         The last respawn of the day was awarded to Pyro, who had been shot point blank from behind by his own Scout, who he heard swearing obscenities and apologies just before everything went dark. It must've been a mistake, he figured when he groggily appeared in the RED Spawn zone, must've run in front of him just as he shot. As he stepped out of the small room, he noticed a drastic change in the sky overhead; it had gone from afternoon to sunset in a matter of what felt like seconds. Looking at the nearest clock in confusion, he was alarmed to find that from when he last checked, nearly two hours had passed. The spawn room, lockers, and hallway leading to it was significantly empty, and the base was oddly quiet. No stray shouts drifting through the vents, no cheerful laughs from a success, just silence.

         It was unnerving.

         In that moment, he didn't care to hide his face, ripping off the mask and tossing it aside to see better. He was breathing heavily from the weight of the flameproof suit, but he took slow, cautious steps towards the dining room. "Hello?" He called out, hoping to catch the attention of one of his teammates, to see if they were all okay, or if he had every reason to be worried. Andrei swallowed the forming lump in his throat, grip tight on his fire ax, walking further into the base and from the spawn zone, glancing around each corner, swinging at each turn, only to come up with absolutely nothing.

         As he reached the door of the dining room, he was more confused than worried. He had started hearing shuffling feet, hushed voices, and the sounds of running getting further. He wasn't alone, that's for sure, but if BLU had infiltrated the base, he would've at least heard battle, or seen blood. But no, the walls were spotless, everything was in place, with no clear signs of any struggles. His hand, covered in a rubber glove, pushed against the wooden door, floorboards creaking under him as he stepped into the room.

         Light blinded him, having been switched on so suddenly, and he heard loud shouts of his name, his real name. Not Pyro, not "thing", not even "fireman" (as Scout called him sometimes). No, his birth name, _Andrei_ , came from their lips, and he panicked. Who had told them? Light blue eyes opening wide, he lost the grip on his ax and looked around, heart hammering against his chest. Everyone was surrounding him, table gone from the center of the room, in its place, a fidgeting Medic, who he knew for sure _never_ openly expressed anxiety.

         Something small was held in his hands, something he had yet to see in full, as someone smacked him against the back. The Boston boy, once again apologizing about earlier, saying that Medic had told him to do it, just to keep him out of the base for long enough. Nothing made sense, as he turned to stare at his lover completely, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as they gazed at each other. "What is going on? What does he mean keep me out of base?"

         A small sigh followed by a smile, and Maximilian was slowly making his way towards him, fumbling with the object in his hands. "I asked for zheir help in zhis, Andrei. I - I vas never good at romance, you know that, and they were all surprisingly villing. But, ve are getting off topic." He stopped in front of the shorter man, looking down at him with a small grin. "Ever since I repaired your arm, as vell as your tongue, I have felt a deep attraction towards you. Und vith each day zhat passed, that affection grew with each moment I could look at you. I found myself head over heels before I could so much as breathe, and all because you were the first one to show me that I was capable of healing, not just killing and experimenting."

         "You showed me rays of light more beautiful than any sunrise with your smile, and you got me addicted to the taste of sea salt. I can never stop loving you, and hopefully, I von't have to." Medic opened his hands, revealing to the scarred Romanian a small, black box he had only dreamed of seeing presented to _him_. He instinctively gasped, hands moving to cup around his mouth as he bent to one knee, smile growing in size and radiance. There was no way... "Andrei Zolner, I love you vith every fiber in my once cold, dead body. You revived me better zhan any respawn ever could, and I am not afraid to show zhese dummkopfs how I feel," he took a shaky breath, glancing towards the other mercs, who seemed on edge as they watched.

         "Vill you marry me?" Sure enough, he opened the box, revealing a ring. It wasn't the most expensive, or even the most grand, but it was enough. It was a show of affection from Maximilian, _his_ doctor, and a promise he had thought no one could ever make to him. But he was offering, all so readily, to lock their fates with something as magical as marriage. Andrei felt tears threatening to spill, and he nodded. He shouted in every language he knew, German, English, Romanian, even Sign Language. "Yes! Ja, da, yes!" He dropped to his knees, crying like a child as he pulled the doctor close, pressed their lips together as he frantically nodded over and over again.

         A cheer spread around the room, shouts louder than any victory screech he'd ever heard, but none of it mattered. What mattered was the ring slipped onto his ring finger, the absolute delight in Medic's eyes as he kissed him again, and again, and again. Nothing would ever make him happier than this moment.

         Nothing ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just say, I remember what it felt like to write these. I had a ton of fun writing about these cute dorks, and I've expanded Andrei's history and personality further thanks to this. It was nice to base them off each other, to play off Medic and Pyro and see what worked as well as what didn't. I love writing about them! Maybe I'll write about them again sometime? Hah hah ^^ Well anyways, thank you so much for reading! Every little read is appreciated, people!   
> (maybe something for Pauling is coming? I'm still chewing on the idea, but feel free to tell me your thoughts and headcanons on how everyone's favorite gal is in relationships! They'll help me a ton.)


End file.
